


you might belong

by weatheredlaw



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Backstory, F/M, Family Drama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-01
Updated: 2016-12-01
Packaged: 2018-09-03 12:43:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8714395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weatheredlaw/pseuds/weatheredlaw
Summary: Scamanders are never Hufflepuffs.





	

**Author's Note:**

> took liberties with the sortings of newt's family, and i've got it in my head that tina was in wampus? idk. retaining that until canon tells me otherwise.

_Scamanders are never Hufflepuffs._

It isn’t that this is some kind of unwritten rule – it is a precedent established by years of Ravenclaws and Gryffindors, and even a large handful of Slytherins. Theseus was a Ravenclaw prefect by the time Newt came to Hogwarts. His mother had been a Ravenclaw as well, his father a Gryffindor. It was assumed, then, that Newt would fall into one of these. Distant family predicted Ravenclaw, and Newt had received for Christmas and his birthday, the year before his sorting, no less than eleven differently patterned hats, scarves, ties, or gloves – all blue and dark grey and staring at him from bland brown paper.

It was just incredibly simple, and incredibly easy.

_Scamanders did not become Hufflepuffs._

Newt can clearly remember his brother’s face the night he was sorted. Already taller than most, robes a size too big, Hogwarts tie hanging loosely, poorly knotted by his mother as they rushed to get on the train. His brother, ushering second years and brand new, bright-eyed first years aside to make room, _make room._ Theseus was, had always been, and still _is_ a complete ass – but he’d always done a poor job of pushing it down far enough to detest his only sibling.

He can still see the way his brother’s face falls, then twists into confusion as the hat _chuckles_ and squawks loudly to the crowd, “ ** _Hufflepuff!_** ”

 

* * *

 

“Is it so bad, then?” Tina asks, absently stirring her spoon in her coffee, looking over the headlines in the paper. “To be a Hufflepuff?”

“Absolutely not.” Newt feels a bit of that familiar swell, the one that has always come with defending his house. He never got to finish, but that familiar pride does not dwindle. Queenie still teases him about it, tells him to just _wait_ until he meets American wizards from other schools. All sorts, she’d said.

“It says here that the only disappointing thing about you, besides your impending engagement, is your ‘unfortunate sorting into the Hufflepuff house, where Mr. Scamander clearly did not belong. One would think, perhaps, that a wizarding family as influential and proud as the Scamanders would be able to alter such a pitiful outcome, but the elder Scamander apparently did not see fit to—’”

Newt puts his hand over the paragraph without looking up.

“That’s…that’s quite enough.”

Tina sighs. “Was he disappointed?”

“My father is never _not_ disappointed. He can always find something to be irritable about.”

He senses the question, then, without needing to look at her.

But he does, to reassure.

“He doesn’t feel that way about you.”

“There is a precedent, Newt.”

“If you’re referring to Theseus’s wife, I assure you, father is only quarreling with her because _her_ father bested in him in a game of _chess_ almost thirteen years ago, and he is nothing if not moderately vengeful.” Tina snorts, covering her mouth with her hand. “I think father quite likes you. He’s always found Americans…rather exotic.”

“I am _nothing_ of the sort.”

“I think you are very unique,” Newt argues, standing and dropping a kiss on the top of her head. “And I am quite done with the paper if you are, dear.”

“Incredibly done. Though I do like the part where they talk about how reverently you seem to gaze at me through the entirety of the inter – _ah!_ ” He lifts her up, giving her a spin around the sitting room. “ _Newton Artemis Fido Scamander, put me down!_ ”

He does. Right on the sofa, the angle perfect for a rather inappropriate morning kiss.

 

* * *

 

The not-so-strange thing had always been this – Newt belonged in Hufflepuff as much as Theseus belonged in Ravenclaw. They were matched for their houses, matched for the temperament. Newt found that as much as the rest of the school tended to turn their back to him, to whisper along the halls, his fellow Hufflepuffs were gentler, less abrasive about it all.

Of course, this did not stop them from refusing him admittance into the singular realm of social acceptance. And along these fringes is where he found Leta, thrusting her arm into the lake, and yanking out something squirming and _alive._

They were inseparable after that. Attached at the hip. Fates aligned, and most of their courses were together, and when they were not, they could be found outside the Great Hall, eating in solitude, with one another. More times than not, never speaking. Other times trading notes and quotes and ideas. Theories on what _might_ live in the lake and what might _not._

(Newt had been convinced of the mermaids. Leta needed to _see._ They got into a spot of trouble for that. More than once.)

But as content as Newt was to wait until he was free of Hogwarts – which, despite never accepting him had never quite rejected him either – Leta was not. She wanted to be free, in every way. But she knew the consequences of expulsion. Her family was not as elastic as Newt’s, which had hardly any of its own give at all.

So when the girl almost died, and when Leta’s actions were thrown into light – Newt, knowing there would eventually be forgiveness, did what was, at this point, expected.

(He will always remember Dumbledore’s face as they waved his argument to the side. He will always remember Theseus walking him to the station. He will always remember that Leta did not write.)

_Scamanders are never Hufflepuffs._

_Scamanders are never disgraced._

 

* * *

 

Tina admits, in the silence of their shared room – “My father wanted me to be a Thunderbird. I always thought I’d done wrong, winding up in Wampus.”

“Your father wasn’t alive for that to be relevant.”

“Thanks, Newt.”

He sighs. “I’m only pointing out the obvious.”

“And I’m trying to make a point.”

“Ah. Terribly sorry, dear.” He kisses her forehead. “Do go on.”

Tina rolls her eyes. “What I was trying to say was that _my_ father had expectations for me, too.”

“Father’s do that.”

“Right. I just…what kind of expectations are you going to have for _our_ children.”

Newt stares at the ceiling. _Their_ children are not people he’s thought much of, not recently. Occasionally they appear in his thoughts, rather amorphous creatures with no real personality or figure. He can’t grasp them, not as they are, here.

“…Newt.”

“My only current expectations are that they be happy and well loved. I think we are responsible for that last bit.”

Tina hums. “I think so.”

“Theseus will expect them to support Puddlemore, of course. To add to his growing army of spectators.”

“Our children are not going to _boo_ at opposing Quidditch teams with your brother,” Tina mutters.

“Mmm. You say that now.”

She sighs. “Well. I’m only glad you’ve thought of them.”

“I certainly have,” Newt admits. “I’m rather looking forward to meeting them.”

Tina sits up on an elbow, smiling down. “You know we have to _make_ one first.”

Newt grins, pulling her close for a kiss. “How very forward of you, Miss Goldstein.”

She laughs. “A Goldstein never beats around the bush, Mr. Scamander.”

“Never?”

“ _Never._ ”

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr @weatheredlaw


End file.
